to make the eastern settlements. I was told that a thousand men, women and
children had crossed during the space of twenty-four hours. Down on the
Clinch and Holston the settlers were either "forting" or fleeing.

Much of this retirement was compelled by the sad lack of powder and lead,
even of guns. More than one settler depended entirely upon ax or scythe
for protection. Such were prevented from using the advantage of their
stout walls and could do the foe no mischief until after the door had been
battered down, when of course all the advantage shifted to the side of the
invader.

By this I do not mean to disparage such tools as implements of war. A
sturdy fellow with both hands gripping a scythe can do an amazing amount
of damage at close quarters, as more than one Shawnee war-party has
learned.

Briefly summed up, there were dissensions between some of the colonies
over the land-disputes; sparks were flying between the colonies and the
mother-country; every day brought gruesome news from the back-country;
there was a scarcity of guns and ammunition; militia captains were eagerly
stealing one another's men to fill their quotas.

Yet regardless of all these troubles let it be understood that for once
the borders welcomed war and insisted upon it. As early as March, a month
before the Pipe and Yellow Creek outrages, the Williamsburg _Gazette_
printed an address to Lord Dunmore, stating that "an immediate declaration
of war was necessary, nay inevitable." Not only did the whites want the
war, but the natives also were eager for it.

But enough of whys and wherefores, as they make poor story-telling, and
leave me, Basdel Morris, overlong in quitting the thicket about my tree.
And yet the wise man always looks backward as well as forward when
entering on a trail, and children yet unborn may blaze a better trace if
they understand what lies behind them.

I ate my breakfast there in the thick growth, packing my hungry mouth with
parched corn and topping off with a promise of turkey, once I drew beyond
the danger-belt. Trying to make myself believe my appetite was satisfied,
I began the delicate task of leaving cover without leaving any signs. My
horse was a fourth of a mile from my tree, so that in finding him the
Indians would not find me.

The river sang a drowsy song a short distance from my tree and down a
gentle slope. I knew of a spring beneath its bank, and I was impatient to
taste its cold waters. I moved tow